


Crash

by Cheshire_Hearts



Series: Prowl Week 2020 [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Ficlet, Prowl Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Hearts/pseuds/Cheshire_Hearts
Summary: Prowl is trying to hold it together and not crash after a stressful battle and having a lot of mechs ignore his orders.
Series: Prowl Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709890
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43
Collections: Prowl Week





	Crash

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ficlet I did for Prowl Week 2020, the first prompt is Crash.

The door closes behind Prowl, cutting off most of the noise in the hallway behind him. He takes a few kliks to vent deeply. A loud shout followed by the sounds of plating knocking together disrupts the tiny bubble of peace Prowl had started building.

Prowl’s venting turns harsh again. His processor feels like it’s trying to burn a hole in his helm. His servos tremble with the rattling of his armor. His doorwings vibrate against his back and it takes all of his slipping focus to stumble the few feet left between himself and his desk. The Praxian leans heavily against it, using it to support himself so he can make his way to his chair. At least if he makes it then it’ll be better than last time. He doesn’t need Ironhide bursting through his door and tripping over his frame again. It was humiliating enough the first time around.

Two unsteady steps later and Prowl reaches out with one servo to pull his chair closer. One more step and he collapses back into it. His frame shakes harder and it’s all Prowl can do to keep his focus in the present moment. A quick glance at his HUD confirms a crash is imminent and there isn’t anything he can do about it. 

He tries to slow his venting, gripping the armrests on his chair hard enough for the metal to groan and start denting under his fingers. He hates this feeling. Hates looking at his HUD and all the warnings popping up, drowning him under a flood of flashing red. They scroll across his HUD too fast to read fully and it only adds to the stress and anxiety; even turning his optical feed off doesn’t help. He knows it’s still there, scrolling by faster than it has any right to. It’s dizzying thinking about it.

All of that is too much and yet not enough at the same time. Prowl isn’t sure what triggers the crash this time around; the build-up of stress, the cacophony of noise outside his office, or the blinking priority message in the upper corner of his HUD from Optimus. Maybe it’s a combination of them or all three at once. Prowl doesn’t care as time stops for one blissful moment. Everything grinds to a halt and it’s perfect for that single klik. And then he’s falling into himself. He thinks it should probably hurt, and maybe it does, but he isn’t aware of his frame anymore. 

It’s bliss. His mind is finally quiet, finally still as he crashes. He doesn’t have to worry about how big of a failure the last battle was, about how everyone but a handful of mechs ignored his orders. He doesn’t have to keep looking at the statistics and numbers he kept running throughout the battle and watching the casualties grow larger and larger as every order given is outright ignored. He no longer has to look at the predicted casualty numbers as they keep climbing because the Autobots don’t have enough medics at this base and there are too many injured. It’s all his fault too.

The crash sweeps him away under a black tide, letting him forget everything for a time. It’s bliss and he accepts it every time.


End file.
